


rose coloured

by robin_hoods



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Glasses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon has a love/hate relationship with his glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rose coloured

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to be a bit self-indulgent between all the angst I had been writing lately, and what's better than some glasses!kink? ;)

“Robb?”

He looks up from his newspaper, distractedly. Theon is currently lifting up several magazines and old papers on the coffee table, looks underneath them, and when he can't find what he's looking for, sighs. “What?” Robb asks. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Theon says, and then shakes his head. “Well, there is. I can't... I can't find my glasses anywhere.”

“You can't...” Robb stares at Theon for a long moment, until he can't help himself and starts laughing.

“What's so funny?” Theon demands to know, and it's the most hilarious thing Robb has seen all week, no, all month, and once he's started he can't stop. “You know I don't wear them 'cause I like them,” Theon grumbles, crossing his arms.

“No, I know.” Robb takes a deep breath, trying to gain control back over his breathing. “You're just...” He can't help himself and dissolves into another fit of unmanly giggles when he's risked another look at Theon, who is currently pouting in Robb's direction.

He remembers the first day Theon had come home with the glasses well. Theon had resolutely hidden them away, deeming them unfit for wearing in public (even when Robb insisted that their home was private and no one would care). He could see just fine, Theon told him. The glasses really weren't necessary.

(Not that Robb agreed. Theon often squinted at the subtitles of the foreign movies Robb insisted on watching, couldn't read the numbers on any approaching bus, and asked Robb to tell him what the menu said at certain fastfood restaurants, because the font they used was way too small. After a while, Robb had sat Theon down and had said, “It's not them, it really is you.” A visit to the optometrist had soon followed, and Theon had taken home his new glasses a few weeks later.)

He still refused to wear them, however, preferring to ask Robb what time it was and whether they really had just cursed in French in that movie or if that had just been his imagination (it had).

“Where are your glasses?” Robb had asked exasparatedly, one day, and Theon had shrugged non-committally, preferring to focus on his crossword – he could read things as long as they were close enough to him. “Find them,” Robb had ordered, and while Theon had moaned and groaned and done lots of other things to get across his point about how much he hated them and how he was never going to wear them, eventually he had given in and retrieved them from a drawer in the kitchen.

Robb had taken the box out of his hands, had taken the glasses out, and had carefully placed them on Theon's nose. “Much better,” he'd said, letting his hands brush down Theon's cheeks.

“You sure?” Theon had asked, uncertainly.

“Always,” Robb had said, and then whispered, “Wear them to bed. I like seeing you in them.”

And while Theon still insists he hates them, he puts them on every day, and gives Robb knowing glances just over the rim when Robb least expects it, his mouth crinkling up when Robb blushes and tries to focus on whatever else he had been doing at the time.

However, today, Theon has lost his glasses (again). He's looking to Robb for some help, his eyebrows raised, his posture casual next to the table where Robb had been reading his paper, but with a slight edge of nervousness. Robb smiles and leans forward, pulling Theon towards himself, one hand behind his neck, the other on his waist. “Don't you think it's strange,” he says, their faces closer together than they hadd been before, “the sharpness of the world?”

Theon stares at him, his mouth slightly open, and he blinks, once, twice. “Oh,” is the only thing he manages, before Robb takes the rim of the glasses between his fingertips and brings them off Theon's nose, setting them down on the table.

“Found them,” he cheekily says. “What's my reward?”

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all those people who this has happened to, myself included. ;) 
> 
> (Not forgetting the classic, "Where are my glasses?" "On top of your head, dear.")


End file.
